


Sirena

by partialresonance



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: 1930s or 40s probably, Armitage Hux Gets A Hug, Armitage Hux Needs A Hug, Author does not earn her monsterfucker card, Basically ends in marriage, Gingerpilot, Hux has QUESTIONS, Hux is a hitman, I answer none of them, M/M, MerMay, Mild body horror before Hux gets over it, Past Child Abuse, Period-Typical Homophobia, Poe is a mermaid, Poe is charming but kind of scary, mermaid au, not a historian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:54:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24371635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/partialresonance/pseuds/partialresonance
Summary: “Oh no, you’re not leaving.” Poe’s dark eyes twinkle up at him, so big they reflect the starlight. “See, I saved you. That makes you mine.”------When hitman Hux crosses his boss one too many times, Kylo Ren chains him to a cinderblock and tosses him into the bay. A strange creature named Poe takes pity on him, but saving Hux’s life comes with a price that Hux may not be willing to pay—no matter how nice Poe’s smile is.
Relationships: Poe Dameron/Armitage Hux
Comments: 13
Kudos: 94





	Sirena

**Author's Note:**

> Check out the art my friend made!! It's at the bottom of the fic. <3

Hux had always known there was a good chance it would end up like this.

He’d gotten greedy. Skimmed a little too much off the top, brokered a few too many side-deals. He’d known as he was doing it that he was risking the boss’s wrath but he hadn’t been able to help himself. Growing up poor means he knows that even though he’s eaten today, tomorrow’s meal is never guaranteed.

So he’d lied. Cheated. Stolen from thieves. And this is where he’d ended up, with his wrists tied behind his back and a cinderblock chained around his ankles, sinking into the bay.

He manages to keep his calm for about twenty seconds.

He twists his wrists, attempting to loosen the cloth enough to slip free. The cinderblock is pulling him down fast; his tie is floating in front of his face, his shirt riding up. The frigid water grows darker and darker and the cloth binding his wrists holds fast. Not that he would’ve been able to do much even with his hands free.

Panic knifes through him as his lungs start to ache for air.

He tells himself to calm down. Think. He’ll get out of this, like he’s gotten out of everything before. There’s a switchblade in his pocket. If he can reach it, he can cut himself free.

He twists his shoulders, trying to bring his hands around from his back to his side. His fingers scrabble at his pocket, frantic now as it becomes harder to keep himself from breathing in. If he does he’s finished. There’s no air down here. There’s barely any light. Everything is dark, it’s cold—his index finger catches on the pocket, his left shoulder is on fire from the strained position, he tries to push his hand in but—

He can’t reach. His eyes are blown wide and his chest jerks as he barely stops himself from gulping for air. Panic overrides every coherent thought and he starts to flail. He kicks his legs, hard enough that the cinderblock swings—but of course still pulls him down, he’ll never reverse his course completely. Gravity is against him. The universe is against him. He looks up at the fading light from the surface and a desperate whine builds in his throat as his thoughts turn to nothing more than the need to breathe.

Suddenly, there’s a weight pressing against his back and something solid threading under his arms.

Hux jerks away from it but the thing wraps around him tight, pressing against his chest, and he lets out a muffled, gurgling scream. A hand comes up to cover his mouth and nose, catching him before he can drag water into his lungs. He thrashes, mind blank with panic, knowing nothing other than the desperation to free himself so he can _breathe, damn it_. Everything is fading and he doesn’t notice that he’s being pulled up now instead of sinking into the depths.

With a final, weak jerk and a shudder, his eyes roll up and he goes limp.

Hux awakens to sunlight hot on his face and the sound of striking metal ringing in his ears.

He groans. The sound pauses, then resumes again with an increased tempo.

He cracks his eyes open and hisses as the light sears his aching skull. His head is pounding and he feels wrung out, weak and disoriented. He has no idea where he is or what happened and for thirty terrifying seconds he has trouble recalling his own name.

Then he remembers: he’s Hux. Armitage Hux, bastard son of Brendol, and until recently righthand man of the feared mob boss Kylo Ren.

When he levers himself up on his elbows he realizes that his hands are no longer bound by cloth. Squinting at his surroundings, Hux furrows his brow. He’s on a rock. He’s feeling a bit too dizzy to twist around and look behind him, but from what he can see he’s near the shore but still almost entirely surrounded by water.

A muttered curse draws his attention back to the metallic clangs, and as he looks down his eyebrows shoot up in surprise to see a shirtless man sprawled on the rock at his feet.

From this angle all Hux can see clearly is a shock of dark, curly hair, damp and glittering in the bright sunlight, and a set of handsome shoulders, the skin smooth and tanned. He swallows, tries to speak, and manages no more than a breathy little sigh.

The man looks up at him and grins.

“Good, you’re alive. Hate to go to all that trouble for nothing.”

Hux licks his lips. He’s suddenly very thirsty, which he supposes is ridiculous given that he’d almost just died of too much water. The man is very handsome. _Beautiful_ , really, with his strong jaw, sweet smile, and big, deep-set eyes. This has to be a dream.

“You really must’ve pissed someone off, huh?” The man grunts as he takes another swing, hammering away at the chain just below Hux’s bare feet with a rock nearly twice the size of his fist.

“Are you—did you—how did you—?”

“Let me guess. Am I the guy who saved you?” He leans himself up on one elbow, cheek resting in his palm, and winks, flashing a bright smile that nearly knocks Hux on his back. “Sure am. As for how I did it, well, I have my secrets. I’ll let you in on it, cuz you’re cute, but it might be a bit of a shock so we’ll just take it slow. My name’s Poe.”

“H-Hux.” He’s cute? What?

“Hugs? That’s a weird name.”

“It’s _Hux!_ ” He says irritably, before Poe’s laughter clues him in.

“I’m just teasing you, guy.” He winks again, then resumes his efforts to free Hux. He’s quite broad across the shoulders, Hux notices, and well-muscled, at least compared to himself.

Hux wraps his arms around his chest and brings his knees up slightly, trying to relieve the pressure of the chain on his ankles. He’s grateful that the sun is out, warming up the rock, because his sodden clothes are heavy and damp against his skin.

“Aha!” A final strike breaks the chain and the cinderblock slides into the water, the chain rattling on the rock as it goes. Poe tosses the smaller rock aside and pushes himself up a bit in an odd pose that makes Hux wonder if the man’s legs are somehow injured. Though he doesn’t look like he’s in pain. He looks rather pleased with himself. And the posture does nice things for his chest.

Hux draws his feet up awkwardly. The heavy chain is wrapped several times around both ankles and his skin is bruised and raw; he winces as he starts to work them loose, his fingers shaking with fatigue.

“Let me help!” Poe starts to drag himself forward a bit with his arms. The movement is repulsive to Hux, who doesn’t understand what’s going on. The absurd thought runs through his mind that the man might not have legs at all.

Of course he has legs. Hux’s anger flares. Poe is just being _weird_ for some reason and that’s intolerable.

“Are you hurt?” Hux narrows his eyes and leans to the side, trying to see Poe’s lower half, but Poe shifts so that his shoulders are blocking the view. It suddenly seems quite intentional, this careful angle that Poe is presenting of himself, and Hux leans back warily. “What’s going on?”

“Alright,” Poe sighs. “Now, don’t freak out, okay?”

“Why would I freak out?”

The water behind Poe shifts, as if something heavy is moving through it. Hux’s eyes narrow even further.

“You just, yaknow, might.” Poe shrugs, as if it can’t be helped. Hux scoffs.

“I’ve seen worse things than whatever it is you’re hiding.” He’s pulled off more than one hit job for Ren before. Blood doesn’t scare him, nor do gruesome injuries or even death that isn’t his own and imminent.

“Well don’t say I didn’t warn ya.” Grinning, Poe rolls onto his side and suddenly a massive orange fish tail flops onto the rock beside him.

Hux yelps and scrambles back, convinced Poe is about to be eaten by some sort of monster koi fish. But no, as his eyes frantically scan the scene before him he realizes that his earlier fear is in fact true.

Poe does not have legs. Poe’s torso is connected to the fish tail. A spray of orange scales glisten on the skin of his hips and beneath his navel is nothing that Hux recognizes as human anatomy.

The longer he looks, the more his stomach twists in revulsion. His skin feels clammy and he realizes he’s shaking, breathing unevenly.

“You’re freaking out.” Poe looks bored, cheek propped up on his hand again, his tail flicking lazily behind him. The flare of his tail fin is translucent, golden and would be quite beautiful on its own. In fact, that’s true of Poe’s upper half as well. But Hux can’t wrap his head around the whole.

Hux shakes his head but can’t make himself speak. He feels faint. This can’t be real.

“You’re a fish,” he says weakly.

“How could you say that?” Poe pouts, feigning hurt. “Look at this handsome face. You ever seen a fish this hot?”

The tail shifts on the rock and something about the wet sound of it sends Hux reeling to the side, heaving into the water. When he can bring himself to look back at Poe, wiping a shaky hand across his mouth, he can tell the other man (?) is furious.

“Now that was just rude.” Glaring at Hux, Poe picks himself up and shoves off of the rock, disappearing into the water with surprising grace, nary a splash or ripple left behind.

Hux groans and lets himself fall back, rubbing his eyes.

Hours later, it’s getting dark. Hux is hungry and he’s shivering.

He had worked his ankles free from the chains and then ran out of ideas as to what to do next. Looking around, he’d determined that he was farther from shore than he’d originally thought. Swimming seems unwise; he is still alternately lightheaded and dizzy, and has never been the strongest swimmer to begin with.

He does not want to spend the night out here. He thinks he might not survive the cold; his clothes had never properly dried despite laying out in the sun for the majority of the day and his teeth are already chattering even though the sun has yet to slip fully below the horizon and the rock still holds some residual heat from the day.

“Poe?” He says tentatively, to no answer.

Hux has half-convinced himself that Poe was just a hallucination. Of course, that theory leaves much to be desired as it can’t explain how he escaped from drowning or how he’d gotten rid of the cinderblock.

“Poe!” He calls out, angry at the maybe-hallucination with the nice hair and smile for abandoning him, angry at himself for yelling at ghosts. He yells for Poe again and again, thinking that someone might hear him, losing hope as the light fades completely.

He stops yelling and puts his head in his arms, shivering and on the verge of frustrated tears.

“Apologize.”

Hux’s head rockets up. He sees a very irritated Poe lounging on the rock. The clouds shift and a sudden beam of moonlight illuminates his face and Hux thinks he hasn’t been so grateful to see another person in all his life.

“I’m…sorry?”

Poe shakes his head.

“You really hurt my feelings,” he says, giving Hux this wide-eyed look that strikes Hux as the most open expression he’s seen in some time—completely devoid of artifice, manipulation, concealment. It’s not common in the world Hux comes from. “I like to think of myself as a pretty good-lookin’ guy, yaknow? And it’s one thing if you’re not into me and another to go and _puke.”_

_“_ I didn’t mean to,” Hux snaps. Poe gives him a flat look, then without another word turns and starts to slip into the water. “Wait! Wait, I’m sorry!” Hux scrambles forward on hands and knees. “I’m sorry, Poe, really, I was just shocked, I was freaking out, you’re right and you’re—you are very handsome, actually, okay? Is that what you want to hear? Because it’s true.”

Poe turns back to him, grinning. Hux can barely restrain himself from rolling his eyes as Poe takes up his favorite pose—chest leaning against the rock, one arm folded in front of him, the other bent upwards and propping up his head, chin in palm and smarmy look all over his face. His tail waves in the air behind him and maybe it’s the exhaustion or exposure talking but Hux isn’t as repulsed by it as he was before.

It’s still strange, of course, but this whole day has been quite strange. It seems the price he paid to live might have been his right to a normal life. Hux considers it a fair trade at the moment, though that doesn’t mean he has to be particularly happy about it.

When Poe just keeps grinning at him, Hux shifts nervously.

“So—so, can you, um. Can you help me?”

“Sure!” Poe seems to perk up, pushing himself up on both hands. “With what?”

“Ah—ha ha, you’re ah. You’re joking, right?” Wind sweeps across the rock and Hux shivers, rubbing his arms.

“Oh, you’re cold!”

“Well, yes—” He’s certainly cold, although he wouldn’t identify that as the root of all his current issues.

“I can definitely help with that. Come here?” Poe scoots himself up so he’s sitting upright in what looks like more of a human pose than it should have, considering he doesn’t exactly have an ass to sit on. Just that tail…Hux shakes his head and despite himself scoots a bit closer, though still out of reach, watching Poe warily.

“What are you going to do?”

“Give you a hug? Do they not have hugs, where you come from? C’mon, weirdo.” Poe holds his arms open and gives him a grin that is almost infuriatingly charming.

“ _I’m_ the weirdo,” Hux mutters, as he gives in and slides into Poe’s embrace. As soon as Poe’s arms wrap around him Hux is instantly warmer, almost unnaturally so—though it’s quite pleasant, to the extent that he has to stop himself from nuzzling in to Poe’s chest like an affectionate lap dog.

He’s not normally a very _touchy_ person, and can’t remember the last time he embraced someone like this, if he ever has.

“As long as you’re touching me, you’ll be warm.” Poe cocks his head, smiling. “Isn’t that great?”

“Not really. It means as soon as you’re gone, I’ll freeze.”

“Well I’m not going anywhere. Silly.” Poe rubs his hands slowly up and down Hux’s arms. He starts tugging Hux towards the water. “Come on, then. Let’s get out of here. I promise you’ll be fine. I float when I want to, and I won’t let you go.”

Before Hux knows quite what is happening, he’s in the water.

True to Poe’s word, the water loses its frigid feel as long as some part of Hux’s skin is in contact with Poe’s. He ends up straddling the creature—man—whatever he is—as Poe floats on his back like a living raft. Hux’s hands are pressed to Poe’s chest, his thin, pale fingers splayed wide over his ribcage.

The tail undulates slowly behind him, propelling Poe at a leisurely pace through the dark water.

Hux’s feet are trailing under the surface and he gives a nervous glance down.

“Are there any others like you out here? Or anything with teeth?”

“You’re safe with me,” Poe promises, putting his hands around Hux’s wrists in a loose grip and smiling up at him. Poe’s dark curls are a weightless halo around his head. He looks so _happy_. Hux is certain no one has ever looked at him like that before. Hux doesn’t make people happy.

It makes his stomach feel sort of fluttery. He likes touching Poe. Straddling him like this feels…very nice. Poe is clearly strong; he managed to pull Hux to the surface, even weighed down by a cinderblock and chains, and every swipe of that tail serves to remind Hux of all the sheer muscle currently trapped between his thighs.

So, yes. Nice. Suspiciously so. Hux looks away and clears his throat, only then noticing the direction Poe is taking him.

“Shouldn’t you be swimming that way?” Hux thumbs over his shoulder. “Back to shore?”

“Why would we go back to shore?”

“So I can…go home?” Hux has a bad feeling about where this conversation might be headed.

“Oh no, you’re not leaving.” Poe’s dark eyes twinkle up at him, so big they reflect the starlight. “See, I saved you. That makes you mine.”

“Um.”

“I mean, this can’t be any worse than where you came from. They did try to kill you.”

“I just—I don’t understand. I’m supposed to stay out here? In th—in the water?” Hux’s voice is going high and strained as panic starts to creep in. He’s caught between admiring Poe’s stunning looks, the way the moonlight reflects off his glistening skin, and the instinct to flee.

Poe reaches up and grabs Hux’s shoulders, pulling him down so he’s pressed against Poe’s chest.

“Don’t worry,” he whispers. “I’ll take care of you. I can make it so you’re like me.”

“But I don’t want to be like you!” Hux scrambles back up, feeling betrayed by his own impulse to curl into Poe’s embrace and never let go.

Poe looks hurt, and for some reason that makes Hux feel bad. There is something deeply _innocent_ about Poe, he realizes suddenly. For all that his words sound dark he seems to truly not understand why this would be a problem for Hux.

“How old are you?” He asks. Poe tilts his head again, face lighting up in amusement.

“Why do you ask?”

“You just seem…” Hux shrugs. “I’m thirty-five.”

“How do _you_ measure age?”

“Oh. In years.” Poe lifts his eyebrows in a _go on_ look and Hux clears his throat. “A year is about 365 days?”

“Hmm. That’s almost right.”

“What? That is right! I know how long a year is.”

“Well,” Poe chuckles, “for us a year is a bit shorter. It’s close enough, though. I’m almost ninety-three.”

“Ninety-three what?”

Poe grins.

“Years.”

Well. There goes Hux’s theory about Poe perhaps being very young. He clears his throat and tries to hide his shock.

“We live a long time.” Hux hears that tail slapping the water behind him. Poe looks amused. “Age slow. I’m still in the first third of my life.”

“I would be very lucky to live to see ninety.”

“Well, that’s why you should stay with me.”

“And have you ever done this before, in your ninety-odd years? Saved a human and—kept them?”

“Nope. But it’s kind of the deal. We like to keep our secrets. If I let you go, next thing I know you’ll be back out here with your boats and nets and harpoons—”

“I wouldn’t say anything,” Hux says quickly. “I swear it.” But Poe is shaking his head.

Hux starts trembling again. It’s very disorienting, to be both terrified and desirous of the creature below him. When Poe smiles it lights up Hux’s whole being, but his words are horrifying, the implications unbearable. To become—like this? Lose the body that he knows and what, live in the dark waters forever, where who knows what other dangers lurk?

“Hey,” Poe says gently, his eyebrows drawing together in concern. “Hey, it’s okay. Come here.”

Hux lets himself go, leaning down until he’s laying on Poe’s chest, his head tucked up under Poe’s chin. He clutches at Poe’s sides, knowing that without Poe he would already be dead, that the creature could cast him off again and leave him to the same fate.

Poe wraps his arms around Hux, holding him tight.

“Shhh. Don’t be scared. I’ve got you.”

The water laps at Poe’s shoulder, inches from Hux’s nose. He squeezes his eyes shut tight and shudders.

“Please.” A terrified sob works its way out of his throat. “Please.”

_Let me go don’t let me go_

The thoughts are simultaneous and Hux lets out a choked whimper as he realizes he doesn’t know which he means more.

Poe starts kissing the top of his head. With his arms still wrapped tight around Hux he lifts a hand to stroke Hux’s cheek with a gentle brush of knuckles. Hux sniffs and gives a pained little laugh.

“I—I’m terrified of the water,” he admits.

“Yeah,” Poe chuckles, “I kinda got that.”

“And I—may not have much going for me, where I came from, but I don’t—I don’t want this.”

“You don’t like me?” He can _hear_ the pout in Poe’s tone.

“I mean, do you like me?” Hux says it as if he knows what the answer will be—of course not, nobody really _likes_ Hux, at most they tolerate him for whatever services he provides but the sooner they can get away from him, the better. He’s unpleasant: acerbic and vindictive and prideful.

Poe’s silence, and the way he presses his lips to Hux’s hair, is telling.

“Is that why you saved me? You saw me and wanted to—to keep me?”

“You were going to die,” Poe says softly. He cards his fingers through Hux’s hair, fluffing it. “And I’ve never seen someone with hair like this. You looked so scared. I didn’t like that. I couldn’t let you go.”

“My hair.” Hux enjoys the petting, and rubs his nose against Poe’s chest. “That’s what did it? That’s why I’m alive? I had no idea it was such an asset.”

It’s odd, how nice it is to touch Poe like this. Hux has always wanted to touch someone like this.For a moment he doesn’t care that he’s in the middle of the bay, so far from shore he has no idea which direction it lies in anymore. He doesn’t care about Poe’s stupid tail. He just likes this feeling of being held and the warm skin under his splayed fingers, the way Poe smells.

“Are you using some sort of trickery on me? Some kind of—” Hux waves his hand in a circle, “Mystical, monstrous wiles?”

“I’m just being nice to you.” Poe laughs, eyes crinkling with delight. “Isn’t anyone ever nice to you?”

“Hardly. I’m a gay hitman. Nothing about me is either legal or desirable. And that is not even to mention my personality, which I’ve been told is lacking in any redeeming qualities.” He may as well be straight (ha) with this fellow, since perhaps the truth of Hux’s irredeemability will sink in and Poe will decide to discard him—hopefully, on land.

But instead of remarking on anything Hux considers worthwhile, Poe’s brow furrows and he asks:

“What’s gay?”

“It means I like men.”

“Hey! Me too. That’s—wait, that’s illegal? Like you get in trouble for it?”

“Well, I try not to let anyone know. It comes up occasionally despite my best efforts. And then, yes, typically there is trouble.”

“That’s really stupid, Hux. Why would I let you go back to that even if I could?”

It’s a good question, and if Poe were anything other than a thing of legends—if he were just a normal man come to whisk Hux away from his depressing life, Hux would follow that smile in a heartbeat. But as it is he can only shake his head because this is too different, too strange. He’s hungry and wet and tired and he wants his _bed_ —does Poe even have a bed? Does he even sleep? There are too many questions buzzing around in Hux’s head and in any case he doesn’t need to ask them because it’s not as if he’s considering _accepting_ this new life—

Though, he reminds himself, despite the smiles and the kindness Poe isn’t exactly giving him a choice.

“Maybe if you tell me more about your life on land, I’ll understand why you want to go back.”

“And you’ll let me go?”

“Well. We’ll see.” Poe flashes him an impish grin.

And because there is little else Hux can do besides placate this strange and sort of wonderful creature that has captured him, he starts to talk.

He stares up at the star-strewn sky with his hands braced against Poe’s chest and tells him the story that always starts in the kitchen of an old-money estate in England, with a red-haired girl that Hux imagines to have laughter in her eyes and a spot of flour on her pale cheek. As he talks of Brendol’s dalliance with his domestic servant girl Hux wonders if it’s something he got from his mother, this ability to capture the attention of monsters.

Though Poe is nothing like Brendol, so far as Hux can see.

The telling turns sad almost right away, as Hux is taken from his mother to be raised in the cold presence of Brendol and his wife, who both hate him for what he represents. Disappointment after disappointment, young Hux is labeled a failure, a weakling, a degenerate almost from the start.

He is cast out of his father’s house at fourteen, after it is discovered that he is attracted to other boys. Many years are spent in poverty and effective homelessness, stealing to feed himself; though Brendol still claims him at times, always showing up with some demand or other, perhaps even motivated partially by regret at some points. Though it always turns sour as soon as he is reminded of exactly what Hux is.

He finds himself relating all this to Poe with more candor than he’s ever had speaking to anyone else. Soon Poe knows more about him than any other person, alive or dead.

And maybe it’s a streak of vindictiveness, a cry out against being held captive by a creature that thinks too highly of him already, that leads Hux to confess in a stilting, wooden tone to the murder of his father. Brendol has abused him his entire childhood and well into his twenties. It becomes too much. Hux hates him and, after their move to America and being cast out of the home, has already fallen in with Kylo Ren and his ‘knights’. He has killed others under their orders, certainly people far less deserving of their deaths than Brendol Hux.

“So I poisoned his soup,” Hux says, still looking at the stars. _I am a bad man and you do not want me. So drag me down, finish what Ren started, and let’s be done with this farce._

He hazards a glance down at Poe. For some reason, he realizes, he actually cares what this creature thinks of him. Ridiculous. Poe looks very sad. Hux feels bad for causing it.

“You never saw your mom again?”

“I did not. She may still be alive, in England. But I don’t—” Hux has to clear his throat, blinking in surprise at the sudden swell of emotion as he admits, “I don’t remember her name. Brendol forbid talk of her.”

“You’ve been through so much.” Poe’s eyes, his voice, are nothing but sympathetic. Hux squints, tries to find some judgment there, flinching away as Poe trails his warm fingers up Hux’s forearm.

“So you see now, I’m not the sort of person you would want to keep.”

“You think I don’t want you?” Poe quirks an eyebrow, giving him a sad little smile that borders so close to pity that Hux feels his hackles go up. Poe grips his wrists and Hux freezes, vibrating with tension. “You’re so interesting, Hux. I’m sorry you had to go through all of that. I really am. You didn’t deserve it; you were just a kid…”

“I’m not a _kid_ now,” Hux snarls, “and I still kill people who _don’t_ deserve it. It’s my only function.”

“Well, I don’t believe that. _Stay with me_ , Hux.” Poe smiles. “You can leave all that behind.”

“You can’t want me,” Hux says stubbornly, shaking his head. “No one does.”

“Oh, I do.”

Poe’s confidence is overwhelming. Hux feels laid bare by the words; there’s no recourse for argument, nothing he can say to convince Poe that he is fundamentally wrong. Poe knows everything, all the worst parts of Hux, of what he’s done, and yet he still wants him. It’s an unfamiliar feeling to say the least.

Hux falls silent, and looks down at Poe’s chest, where Hux is tracing little circles on his sternum.

Poe glances up, and Hux follows his gaze to the moon, swaying a bit as he cranes his head back.

“It’s late,” Poe says. “Listen, you’re tired. Why don’t you get some sleep? I’ll wake you up in a few hours.”

“So you do know of sleep,” Hux mutters.

After some insistence on Poe’s part Hux lays down. He expects to be uncomfortable, to feel like he’s going to roll off into the water. But Poe’s chest is just broad enough, and Hux is just tired enough, for him to curl up on top of Poe and almost instantly drop off to sleep.

Hux wakes up naturally when the gentle bobbing up and down of Poe’s body in the water gives way to a steadiness that he knows in his marrow means land.

He blinks. His hands encounter soft sand as he pushes himself up, staring around uncomprehendingly at his surroundings. He’s not back on the rocky shore of the bay. He’s in some kind of—cove?

The sand beneath him is white and soft as silk. The water nearby is bright turquoise, and uphill the sand gives way to lush vegetation—vines laden with pink and white flowers, weeping willow strands that sway in the gentle breeze. On three sides he’s hemmed in by rock walls. Dawn light streams down from a circular break in the ceiling high overhead.

He doesn’t feel trapped, strangely enough. It’s quiet. Contained.

S _afe,_ his mind whispers.

“Poe?”

There’s no answer, but Hux’s ears tune in to the sound of trickling water. His thirst slams into him with dizzying force and he scrambles to his feet, staggering in the sand towards a pool of clear water that appears to have filtered down from the gap in the rock overhead. He plunges his hands into it, scooping it greedily into his mouth. He’s never tasted water so sweet.

When he’s had his fill he flops onto the sand and gives himself up to the pitiful hunger gnawing at his stomach. It’s no worse than he’d grown used to as a teenager, though he feels rather more helpless about it, dependent again on Poe’s mercy.

Somehow, his normally suspicious mind doesn’t even entertain the thought that Poe may have abandoned him here. He knows Poe will be back. It’s just a matter of time.

“Hey there, handsome.”

Hux sits up, smiling as he sees Poe lounging half in and half out of the water. The bright orange tail is fine, inconsequential—a distant second to Hux’s more pressing needs.

“I’m hungry,” he says bluntly.

Poe rolls onto his back, tilting his head to look at Hux upside down, arms stretched out to either side and his tail swishing back and forth. He radiates arrogance and lazy contentment; Hux has the absurd urge to go to him and kiss him. Maybe brush the sand from his curls.

“Well?” Hux snaps, when Poe continues looking at him. Poe grins.

“You’re _demanding_ ,” he says in an awed tone, smiling stupidly as if it’s a compliment, something he actually _likes_ about Hux. He flicks his tail to the right. “I left you some fruit over there.”

“Fruit,” Hux sniffs. “Of course you’d feed me like I’m some sort of common animal. Like giving a horse an apple.” Still, he stands up immediately and searches among the rocks near the water, some of which hide little tide pools full of brilliantly colored urchins and sea stars, until he finds the fruit Poe had mentioned. It’s not apples, or anything Hux is familiar with, but when he bites into one it’s sweet and juicy.

“Where did you get fruit?”

Poe is watching him with that infuriating grin on his face and startles a bit when Hux addresses him.

“That’s one of my secrets.”

“Yes, you’re full of those, aren’t you?” Hux finishes the first piece of fruit and moves on to another. “Well, this is good. Thank you. Before you get to looking too pleased with yourself, a bit of fruit isn’t going to change my mind. I want you to take me back today.”

“Hux, you know I can’t do that. I already explained—”

“I know you can do bloody well whatever you like!” Hux gestures angrily with the half-eaten fruit. “I can’t live like this and I refuse to live like you! I didn’t ask you to save me and although I appreciate it, it doesn’t mean I’ve agreed to anything so drastic as a gruesome transformation into a type of creature I don’t understand, to live a life I can’t even begin to imagine, giving up everything I’ve ever known in the process. How would you like it if I dragged you onto land and forced you live like us?”

“Hey, pal,” Poe’s brow furrows in his characteristic youthful anger, so easy to spark it’s almost comical. He rolls over and sits up, crossing his arms over his chest, his tail slapping the water in agitation. “We’ve been over this. Your life sucked. I’m sorry, I didn’t want to say it outright, but it did. What I’m offering is—”

“I don’t _know_ what you’re offering!” Hux yells, shrill, teetering on hysteria. “I don’t know if you mean to keep me as a pet or as a mate, I don’t know what your life is like, what it would mean for me, would it _hurt?_ I don’t know anything!”

“Oh.” Poe lets his arms fall to his sides. “Well if that’s the problem then…sure, I can tell you some stuff.”

“Oh? You can? You’ll not just say _secrets_ and wag your finger at me again?”

“Vindictive,” Poe says, grinning again. “That’s what you called yourself, right?”

“Some have gone so far as to suggest I’m petty.” Hux sniffs again, turning his attention back to the fruit in a huff over the fact that Poe is able to wind him down so easily. He’s barely even annoyed anymore, much less incensed. That’s quite rude of Poe, come to think of it, being so disarming. Hux likes his anger.

“You? No way.”

“Indeed. Now, go on, I believe you were about to provide me with some answers?”

“Yeah. Well, okay, I guess I’ll start from the beginning. I live in this place called Yavin…”

Hux learns a good deal that morning about the sprawling underwater community Poe hails from. He learns that Poe’s mother died when he was very young, and that his father is some sort of community leader. When Hux asks if he’s a king, Poe nearly laughs himself into the water.

“No, no, he’s more of…an advisor? And a counselor. People come to him with their problems and he gives them advice, which they mostly ignore. He resolves disputes. He doesn’t give orders or anything like that.”

“Hmm. And what do you eat, down there? Do you sleep? And explain some of this—” he waves his hand at Poe’s lower half, “Anatomy. Reproduction, sexual basics, that sort of thing.” He colors a bit, hoping that’s not too scandalous for Poe.

But Poe turns out to be just as shameless as Hux himself, and explains it all enthusiastically, with perhaps more detail and graphic examples than are strictly necessary.

“I hope that wasn’t too much for you.”

“Not at all.” Hux clears his throat, a bit awkward in light of his newfound familiarity with the reproductive habits of Poe’s species. He scoots down onto the sand, within arm’s reach of Poe. “I find that I don’t mind hearing you speak. The sound of your voice is oddly pleasant. Probably more of your trickery; I can never stand to listen to anyone talk other than myself.”

“I like your voice, too.” Poe is grinning fit to outshine the sun. He lays his hand on the sand, palm up, and after a moment of looking at it Hux lays his hand in Poe’s. Poe curls his fingers up, rubbing his thumb over the back of Hux’s hand. “Oh, and I forgot to mention—you wouldn’t be my pet. And you’d only be my mate if you wanted to. In fact, once you’re one of us, you could go your separate way from me and never speak to me again.”

“And would you want that?” Hux clears his throat again, looking down at their entwined hands. He gives Poe’s hand a squeeze. It feels nice.

“It would make me so sad. How many times do I have to say it, Hux? I want you.”

Hux shivers.

“Every time you say it I find myself believing it a little more.”

“Believe it. It’s true.”

Poe gives his hand a little tug and Hux goes to him, scooting over until he’s pressed up flush against Poe’s side. He stares at the creature for a moment, drinking in the handsome face, and finally gives in to his long-held desire to touch those indomitable curls.

“The part of me that used to care about other people is gone,” Hux says softly, carefully, moving aside one of Poe’s curls. “I don’t feel anything when I kill someone. I try to, sometimes, out of curiosity. It’s like an amputee trying to pick something up with a hand they no longer have.”

“Well, it sounds to me like there aren’t many people in your life who have proven they’re worth caring about.” Poe touches his cheek, his dark eyes flicking between Hux’s grey ones. “I’d like to prove to you I’m worth caring about.”

“How would you do that?”

Their faces are already close; Poe just has to lean in an inch or so and his nose is ghosting along Hux’s cheek, brushing against the side of Hux’s nose. Hux takes in a sharp breath. He doesn’t pull away; he doesn’t move at all. His breath feels frozen in his lungs.

Poe chuckles. His hand comes up to cup the back of Hux’s head as he nuzzles Hux’s nose. He tilts his head until their foreheads touch and then just breathes with Hux, patting the hair at the back of his head in soothing strokes. When he starts to move away Hux whines and chases him, capturing his mouth in a fevered kiss.

Hux lays a hand on the side of Poe’s neck, then moves it up to cup his jaw, his thumb stroking the defined edge. Poe’s lips feel incredible against his: warm and soft and plush. Hux’s breath is coming too quickly. He feels like he’s about to fly out of his skin.

He needs more, immediately.

Hux flings his arms around Poe and crashes their mouths together. He’s drinking Poe in, drawing in as much as he can hold, shivering when Poe lets out a little moan. Poe’s hands move restlessly over his back and shoulders, petting him, squeezing as if he can’t get enough, either. No one has ever touched Hux like this, like he’s something worth caring about, and his skin and bones and all the flesh in between flicker to life under Poe’s hands.

_Maybe_ , he thinks. He would give almost anything to have more of this.

Poe seems willing to give him as much as he asks for. Eventually their kiss grows lazy and they tip over onto the sand, curling around each other. Hux nips at Poe’s neck, drawing out delicious groans. When Poe uses a single fingernail to scratch at Hux’s nape he shudders and plasters himself against Poe’s chest.

“You think you can buy me with kisses,” Hux whispers, gasping as he peppers Poe’s chest with chaste little pecks.

“Well, can I?” Poe has flopped onto his back again, looking as blissed-out as Hux feels. Hux doesn’t answer him. He kisses Poe again. He’s always been greedy.

They fall asleep together in the sand as the sun climbs toward midday.

Three days later, Hux is still in the cove.

Poe is not willing to let him go, any more than Hux is willing to leave. But Poe has agreed not to ‘make Hux like him’ until Hux has decided he is ready. What Poe doesn’t know is that, given infinite time to worry about something, Hux dithers.

Poe brings him food—not just fruit but things that taste of meat, savory and filling, though Hux can never quite identify any of it. He asks if it’s fish and Poe just laughs. He supposes he’ll find out eventually.

Because after three days of bliss, there is no way Hux can give this up. Poe wiles away the time with him, regaling Hux with all the adventures of his youth, bestowing languid kisses in the moonlight. Even if Hux could make a new life for himself back home, somewhere Kylo Ren would never find him, he can’t live without this—the _touches_ , so tender and addictive. Someone who listens to him, who wants him around. He can’t go back to loneliness when he knows what he could have had, with Poe.

Poe is giving him a foot rub when Hux finally decides he’s ready.

Poe seems enamored with Hux’s feet. He grips one pale foot in both hands and works his thumbs into the arch, stroking the top of his foot and up along his shin. Hux props himself up on his elbows and watches, bemused at this attention paid to something that will soon be gone.

The thought still inspires a little spike of fear, but instead of running from it now Hux just wants to be held. By Poe.

He twitches his foot and Poe withdraws with a questioning look, only to break out into a smile as Hux squirms down the sand and worms his way into Poe’s arms. When Poe holds him like this, his arms wrapped so tight around him, Hux feels like nothing in the world could hurt him.

He wants this, for as long as he can have it. He wants to leave everything behind and discover himself anew, with Poe.

“Tell me again,” he whispers into Poe’s ear, eyes shut tight. Poe’s arms flex protectively around him.

“I want you.”

“Always?”

People have tricked him before. They’ve wanted him for certain things, and when he failed to meet their expectations they cast him aside like he was a piece of trash, a crumpled up slip of paper, useless and small. Or they chained him to a cinderblock and tossed him into the bay.

But Poe is different. He flexes his stomach, bringing his tail out of the water to curl all the way around Hux until it’s pressed against his back, until Hux is in the center of a tan-and-orange circle of otherworldly strength marshaled for the sole purpose of his protection, and Poe promises:

“Always, buddy. I want you. You’re smart, you’re interesting, you’re _funny._ Even the things you say I shouldn’t like about you—I love them, I love it all, I love _you._ I want you, Hux, forever and always.”

“Good.” A hot tear streaks down his face as he nuzzles in to Poe’s chest, kissing his collarbone. “I’m ready.”


End file.
